Dear Norma
by AndImTheQueenOfSheba
Summary: It's bad enough being kidnapped and locked in a basement by a bunch of lunatics, but being locked in a basement with the guy who follows you around and won't quit asking you out, that's torture. Lucky I have you Norma, or I'd probably go insane.
1. Chapter 1

_**Okay guys, this is the third and final time that I'm posting this dang story. I'm sick of it, but at one point I had some good ideas, and it'd be a waste to let this file sit around forever. **_

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_May 21st 3:47pm_

Dear Diary-

Wait. No, that sounds stupid. Diary. What kind of word is that? It's so...girly and sweet. It's made of sugar and spice and everything nice, just like the Powerpuff Girls. And just like the Powerpuff Girls, it's pretty uncool to speak of when you're my age.

So I'm gonna call you - Not that you're a you. You're an it...This is an it. - Norma. That's right. Norma.

I had a great-aunt named Norma. She was really nice, and always made me cookies. Unfortunately, Great-Aunt Norma died from Diabetes. She ate too many of her own cookies.

I'm starting over.

Dear Norma,  
I'm going to explain why exactly I'm writing in you...er...this...whatever. Not that you'd actually care, considering you're just a lousy little notebook, with no brain or motor skills or whatever, and don't actually know that I'm writing in you.  
I found you, this, in the pocket of a jacket I haven't worn for nearly half a decade. Needless to say, it doesn't fit anymore, and I got rid of it.

My mom gave you to me right before she died...so I guess I never really bothered to write in you...due to, uh...sadness and stuff. If you were human, you'd know what I was talking about. However, if you were human, you'd probably be pretty ticked that I'm writing on your face.

Anyway...I found you in that pocket when I was going through my clothes the other day, to give some of them away for charity, which, believe me, took FOREVER. Let's just say I have a lot of clothes. I mean, I have the wardrobe of two people, it makes sense. I just wish that other person would help me clean once in a while. Unfortunately, she's sort of limited as to what she can do...

Wow, listen to me, I sound like such a nutcase, writing in this thing. I've already got like, six paragraphs, not counting this one. Why aren't these pages bigger? Six paragraphs, and I'm already on the third page!

Make that fourth.

So back to what I was talking about earlier...wait, what was I talking about earlier? And why am I asking YOU? I mean THIS.

Ah, yes, I was talking about why I'm writing in this...which is actually a good question...and I have a good answer. I think.

I'm writing in this, because some day, unfortunately, I'm going to die...and so if that day comes unexpectedly...say, a UFO crashes into my plane while I'm on my way to...Timbuktu...and we blow up, or...while I'm put under, getting my wisdom teeth taken out, a semi drives through the dentists office...or something much more likely, and way more normal, like skin cancer or something, I want people to know about Hannah...who is me. Do you get what I'm saying? No, you probably don't. You're a book. Who I am talking to...I'm insane.

Alright, so I'm gonna pretend like I'm talking to the person that will undoubtedly read this some day, because, you know, I'm interesting. (ha) Because seriously, I sound so unbelievably crazy, reading what I've wrote. Unfortunately, my pencil doesn't have an eraser, so I can't really erase this...and it would be a waste of paper to rip this out, and I'm environmentally aware and stuff...

So yes...you, the reader, are probably wondering what I'm talking about, which makes a lot of sense, considering I'm having a sort of crazy day. I had a twenty ounce bottle of Mountain Dew with my lunch, okay? And no, my daddy doesn't know about it. If you have to know...he doesn't exactly like it when I have sugar...good things never happen. I'm worse than Jackson, sometimes. If you knew him you'd know how bad that is.

I am Hannah Montana. I really am. Well, not really, because, actually, nobody is Hannah Montana...because she's not a real person, she's me with a wig on. But in a figurative sense...I am Hannah.

I'm Hannah because I want to be normal. That probably doesn't make sense, considering how much I've wrote, and what I've wrote about...but I promise, you, I'm not usually this weird. This is like, a first time thing, ya know?

But back to being normal. That's a sentence fragment, but whatever, at least I know what one is. So anyway, I want to be able to lead a normal life, and not be in the spot light and stuff all the time. You probably wouldn't understand, but then again, maybe you do. I don't have a clue whose going to read this. You could be a vicious axe murderer and I wouldn't even know it. By the way, murder is BAD. So back on subject. It's bad enough that I'm famous half the time, I can't imagine what it'd be like if I was famous all the time. The paparazzi is already after me, I mean, you do one little thing, and it's front page news. Buy a certain brand of toothpaste, and you've got cavities. Go to the doctor, and you've got cancer, or an STD, or you're crazy or something. It's especially hard for us teenagers, because mistakes are what we do, it's our JOB. Everybody makes them, but they just seem a hundred times worse for us, because they're recorded in magazines, with photo-shopped pictures under big, rarely true, headlines. It's completely insane, which is why I choose to stay out of it as much as possible, for a person that does what I do. That's singing, if you haven't figured that out. For all I know, this thing could be lost for hundreds of years, and you probably wouldn't have a clue who Hannah Montana is by then. So yes, I sing. I'm what we call a pop star, I guess.

So now that I've explained all that -I'm going to quit ranting now- I'm going to tell you about my day. It was really hot today, which is to be expected, it IS almost June, and we're in California, but today was more humid than anything...I was sweating so much on the way home. I can't wait to get my license, so I can go to school and come back home in the comfort of air conditioning...which, really really really unfortunately, we don't have at the house right now. The AC went out about a week ago, which is when dad decided he was going to remodel the house, all by himself. Well, he's got Jackson helping him, but Jackson doesn't count. He mostly just sits there, doing bad rock star impressions, annoying the heck out of dad.

So right now, my bathroom is out of order, courtesy of the toilet currently sitting in my bathtub, and the hole in the floor where it used to be. All of the tiles in the house have been torn out, which means I've got about fifty splinters in my feet, due to the now showing wood underneath.

To make things even more uncomfortable, Jackson's been walking around the house without his shirt on. He says it's because of the heat, but I'm pretty sure he's just trying to disgust me. He smells so bad though. You'd think that the extra time he makes sure he takes in the bathroom, to keep me out, would be spent showering, but it's obviously not. He smells worse than...something really smelly. It's too hot for me to think of a good metaphor.  
It's also too hot for me to continue with my story, so I'm going to go find a fan, something to plug my nose with, and a pencil with an eraser. Be back later.

_Later_

Alright, so I did find a fan, but unfortunately, I found neither a nose plug nor an eraser. I did, however, remember my story. So here goes nothing.

I was down at the beach with Lilly(best friend) and Oliver(common sense-lacking, but very nice sort of popular boy who, for some unknown reason, is dumb enough to hang out with us), when this guy came up to us. He had some ridiculous pick up line...I think it was "I forgot my phone number, can I have yours?" He was really cute, but he was obviously full of himself, you could tell just by looking at him. He reminded me of Lilly's ex, Lucas...which means that he seemed like a jerk. He was unbelievably corny too, so I just ignored him. He kept trying to talk to me though. By the time I finally pulled Lilly away from her strawberry smoothie, I was about ready to punch him in the face and tell him to leave me the hell alone. He just about followed me too, except some unbelievably tall guy that I think Jackson knows, "accidentally" ran into him, and pushed him down the stairs. I sort of start to hope he's alright, but then I think about how he was developing some seriously stalker-like habits, and I laugh instead.

So now that I've written my biggest secret in a book that probably won't try very hard to keep it, considering it's a book and all...I'm going to go find something to lock this in...

_May 23rd 7:28pm_

Dear Norma,

I'm still getting used to this, so I apologize if my journal-keeping skills aren't up to par. I'm bad at this kind of thing. That's why I'm a singer, and not an author. You should be glad. You probably are. I'm sure the writing standards in the future are much higher. Or much lower...last I knew, the human race was going down the crapper.

So I don't have much to say today. I'm sorry I didn't write yesterday because...well nothing really happened...Oh wait! Something did happen. That weird guy with the lousy pick-up line? He asked me out. What did I say? No of course. The idiot asked me out, right after I saw him trip a little girl, so that her ice cream fell to the ground. Then he picked it up and ate it himself!

Yeah, if I'd said yes to that...I'd need to get my mental health checked.

And then, get this, he asked me out AGAIN. Today at the beach. I've decided to quit going there.

He came up to the table I was sitting at, alone, unfortunately. Lilly's in Nevada visiting her grandma, and Oliver's...being Oliver somewhere other then the beach.

So he was like "Hey, I get the feeling you don't like me.", and I said something like, "What gives you that idea, the countless rejections or the ice cream on your face?" So he looked all confused, and was like "I don't have ice cream on my face." and so I shoved my ice cream in his face, and asked, "Are you sure?" Then I got up to leave, but he followed me. He grabbed my arm, so I yanked it away, and asked him if he took stalkerology in school, or if it was just a hobby. Then he left me alone.  
Thank god.

_May 27th 9:57pm_

Dear Norma,

I HATE RADLEY WILSON! I KNOW YOU PROBABLY DON'T KNOW WHO HE IS, SEEING AS I HAVEN'T TOLD YOU HIS NAME YET, BUT WHAT DO I KNOW? I'M ONLY A TEENAGER. FOR ALL I KNOW HE COULD BE FAMOUS IN THE FUTURE FOR MURDERING ME! I WOULDN'T PUT IT BELOW HIM. I'M GETTING TIRED OF WRITING IN CAPITAL LETTERS, BUT THEY EXPRESS MY HATRED BEST.

So goodnight Norma.

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_**Okay guys. I PROMISE you that this will not be deleted again. I know it won't be that popular, in which case I should have said "Okay guy" Anyway, I will not delete again, I swear. If I do...seriously, put me out of my misery.  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ummm, yes, I totally forgot I had this chapter ready...or that I had it at all...which is why it's been a while...hmm.

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_May 30th 12:43am_

Dear Norma,

I really want to tear that last page out, now that I've read it while I was calm, but unfortunately, I've written on both sides of the paper, and taking out that entry would mean taking out the one before it too. I _would _cross it out, but my pen's going kind of dead, so I don't want to waste the ink.

So Norma/Person of the Future Whose Name I Do Not Know...you're probably wondering what sparked that last outburst...and I would love to tell you _but_...

__

Okay, I'll tell you.

So Radley Wilson is that more-egotistical-than-Jake-Ryan jerk I met at the beach that insists on asking me out an unhealthy fifty times a stinkin' day. I think you might've guessed that already...Congratulations, you're kind of smart!

Alright, so for a couple days, he'd been leaving me alone, and I thought maybe, just maybe, there was no longer a need to call the police and tell them I had a crazy jackass stalker following me around. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I came home from Lilly's last Saturday, and found him sitting on my couch. That's right, he was sitting on my couch, leaving jerk stains and stinkin' the place up.

To make it much, much worse, he was talking to my dad, who, get this, LIKED HIM. Yeah! They were all "Oh, I love Nascar and chocolate cake, and I hate dance shows and unibrows and when people forget my birthday" "Oh really? Me too!!" "I kinda like you, boy." "Thank you sir, I like me too!"

I am dead serious about the "I like me too" thing. He _actually _did say that. And dad laughed. He _actually _laughed. It was attack of the Joni all over, only this time, it was one person, annoying enough to be three, and I know absolutely NOBODY that actually likes Radley Wilson. At least when dad was obsessed with the Jonas Brothers he wasn't the only one. I'm beginning to question his tastes in friends.

I mean, you _know _if I showed the tiniest amount of interest in Radley, dad would hate him. I mean, I guess every time you look at your daughter's boyfriend, you think about all the things he's done to her. That would be awkward...but he doesn't need to make enemies with the guys I like, and friends with the ones I don't. Especially Radley.

So I just about died in the doorway when I saw the guy in my house. And I just about died after he left too, but I'll get to that later.

My dad was all "Hey Miles, wanna play Scrabble with us?" and I was all, " Uh, no, of course not, I'd win and then Radley'd be a sore loser and cut off my head like the jerk he is. No thanks."

Okay, so I didn't actually say that...what I said was, "Uh, no thanks, I've got to study for finals." That was, of course, the DUMBEST thing I could've said, considering the last of my finals was yesterday.

Dad seemed to believe me though, I mean, he can be gullible sometimes. Why else would he actually acquaint himself with this loser and not see that he was a total jerk? Because Radley Wilson is good at persuading and my dad's a total loser, that's why.

I locked myself in my room for a while, reading a magazine Lilly had left at my house. It was kind of interesting. I learned that I'd just given birth to quadruplets on Wednesday. Who knew I'd be this fit already! I must have an extremely high metabolism.

Eventually, the smell of grilled cheese and tomato soup drifted upstairs, which told me that there was a ninety percent chance that loser-face was gone. Unfortunately, my predicting skills were shot yesterday, because when I went downstairs, he was sitting at the table, in MY spot! I just about went back upstairs without eating. My dad was all "Oh hey Mile, Radley's staying for dinner, do you mind sitting over here tonight?"

I just made a couple weird noises and gave my dad some dirty looks, none of which meant anything to him, since he kept smiling at me, and sat in the chair with the broken leg. I just about fell off five times.

When Jackson came downstairs, he noticed Radley sitting there, and he started laughing like a lunatic...er, himself, and Radley, an _actual _lunatic, joined in. When they finally quit, after I already had a headache, Jackson just said, "You didn't pay for your hot dog, you owe Rico four dollars." and then he stuffed his face with grilled cheese and joined in on the "I like this guy" festivities.

Why is it that none of my family ever like the guys I date, but the one guy I will never in a million years date is their best friend?

Speaking of dating...After Radley left, at like, 10 pm, while it was raining, (Sadly he did not get struck by lightning) Dad said, "I like him." As if that isn't already clear. "That's the kind of guy you should date."

I'm thinking, "Eww, gross, oh my God, stab me in the heart with a Taco Bell spork," but dad's just smiling at me, while I'm pretending to throw up beside him.

And get this. It gets worse.

It was my turn to take out the trash, so I did, and at the end of our driveway, sitting on the curb, _two_ _hours _after he was supposed to leave, is, you guessed it, Radley Wilson.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked him.

"Obviously, I'm sitting on the curb, soaking wet." He told me, acting like such a smart-alek it made me sick.

"I can _see _that. I'm not blind." I replied.

"Then why'd you ask?"

I groaned and stuffed the garbage bag between the two cans already out there.

"Just thought you'd like to see me wet." He told me. Well, something like that...my ears started dying the second he used the words "you" and "me" in the same sentence.

"In your dreams. You're such a freak."

"I am a freak. In-"

"In bed, yeah I know what you're gonna say. You're a pervert."

"And you're hot."

After that, I just grunted and stomped back into the house, leaving him soaked and alone. That last sentence kind of sounds like I cared that he was by himself...here, I'll make it better.

After that, I just grunted and stomped back into the house leaving him SOAKED and ALONE!!

There. Better.

What I did after that isn't interesting, so I'll get you up to this point.

I woke up this morning to the sound of hammers hitting wood. Well, wood or Jackson's head, it _did s_ound kinda hollow...

So I went downstairs in my brand new PJs, and got myself a glass of water, to disguise the fact that I was spying out the window.

Dad, the devil, and Jackson, were out there, building a bookcase. Why a bookcase, I don't know. I know Jackson can't read...maybe it's to store all of dad's crossword puzzles, he _does _have a lot. I guess when you get old, it's good to do that kind of stuff so your brain doesn't rot and turn into a pile of gook taking up space in your head and leaking out your ears.

I watched them for a minute, until Radley turned and gave me this sort of sick, "I'm about to rape you" kind of smile. It scared me, so I set my glass of water back on the counter, ducked, and crawled on my hands and knees all the way back upstairs.

Fortunately, I had a charity concert down at the Tower of Blues today, so I could actually get out of the house.

_Un_fortunately...I had to get ready and leave while Radley was still here. Which turned out to be quite the little problem. I'll explain why.

I was getting ready, and, if I do say so myself, I looked pretty good, considering it took almost two hours just to pick out my shirt...But after I got dressed, and all that stuff, I went downstairs, to find my dad. I figured Radley'd be gone by then...but, _lucky_ _me_, he WASN'T.

I came down the stairs and found him in my kitchen, drinking water out of the exact same glass I'd been drinking out of before.

He saw me, and his eyes got really big. "What are you doing here?" He asked me.

"Uh, where exactly is _here?_" He recited my address, which I'm really creeped out that he knows.

"Oh...well I'm lost, I'm gonna go get more lost." I said, before rushing out of the house, grabbing a hoodie out of the coat closet on my way out.

I ran until I was hidden from him by the neighbor's house, and put on the hoodie, pulling up the hood to hide my hair. I put on the sunglasses that usually hid in the pocket, and went about a block down the road, before calling my dad, to berate him for forgetting about the concert. He apologized nearly a million times -which didn't work. Apologies mean nothing unless they're accompanied by a gift card...umm...I was kidding.- and came to find me. He called the limo company and told them to pick us up down the block instead of at the house, and then apologized some more.

The concert was just like any other, only I didn't get paid for it. Not that I care. I'm 15, I don't even have my license yet. What am _I _gonna do with that much money? (Go shopping...COUGH. If I went shopping that much...I'd need a bigger closet, and since I don't want dad to attempt to build me one...we'll forget I said that.)

After the concert, I went home, to find Jackson and Radley playing Bingo on the coffee table. I swear, he's stalking me. The guy NEVER leaves. He probably slept in dad's bath tub last night.

__

June 1st 6:53pm

Radley was here again. I want to kill myself. Or him. I think the latter would be more enjoyable.

__

June 2nd 4:13pm

Today was the last day of school. Which means that I can no longer stay away from Radley Wilson for seven hours every day. If you haven't guessed, he came over AGAIN.

__

June 3rd 5:04pm

And again.

__

June 4th 6:53pm

AGAIN! God I hate him.

I also hate Jackson right now, because he went through my room and messed everything up, and keeps on denying it. I just about died this morning when you weren't where I put you, Norma. I had a CD signing at 8, that ended at noon, and when I came back, Jackson was on the couch, sleeping, looking suspicious, and my room was pretty messed up. It wasn't messy, exactly...Everything was just in different places. Including you. I'm not really sure _where _he put you...I don't even want to touch your pages, since I know Jackson...

I looked around forever, and went back to yell at Jackson - after I took my wig off, of course, I've learned THAT lesson - and I found him playing Upwords, with you-know-who (not Voldemort). He told me he didn't go in my room while I was gone, but the next word he spelled on the game was "guilt" so I think we know what really happened.

I searched for nearly an hour, until I finally went to get something to eat. All I'd had all morning was a Starbucks Strawberries and Cream frappuccino from the mall, and I'm pretty sure my cannibalistic stomach was eating itself.

When I got back, you were right where I always keep you, where, I _swear_, you weren't five minutes before. Who knows what Jackson read in here...I've got to find another hiding place for you...

__

June 13th or 14th

OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG. That's a lot of OMGs, and I don't usually say OMG, but OMG!! This is not good, this is not good. I'll probably get Carpal Tunnel from writing OMG so many times but I don't care! I don't know where I am, and I can't remember why, and my head hurts, and I've got jerk-face sitting next to me, and this floor is hard, and my butt is falling asleep, and I've been here waaaaaaay too long AND JERK-FACE IS SITTING NEXT TO ME!! OMFG.

Radley better thank God that I decided to carry you with me today Norma, because if I didn't have you, I'd be carving OMG into his face with my fingernails right about now.

I'M DYING. THIS IS HORRIBLE.

OMG.


End file.
